Tabloids, Duty and Love
by Khiori
Summary: Contingency plans are required, even in love. (Set after Vulcan's Heart with an OC reference to Kerjen)


Spock resisted the very human urge to sigh in complete frustration.

Seventeen months of bitter labyrinthine negotiations with the a'Relh were poised now on the brink of explosive failure and there was not a single thing he could do to avert the disaster.

He set his data padd down reluctantly and engaged a light bio-control technique to ease the warning twinges of a headache that was threatening to reach migraine proportions.

It had been a mistake for a Vulcan Ambassador to lead the negotiations.

His mind automatically recalled the various bits of furniture and glassware flying through the air at the parliamentary meeting that morning.

He very nearly grimaced.

Of course, given the bloody firefight that had broken out during the scheduled peace march-and the resultant evacuation of half the capital city as they discovered just how truly combustible the primitive fuel ran power system truly was—he supposed the meeting had been rather. . .tame by comparison.

He almost dreaded the negotiation team meeting tonight.

There was still half a city to possibly destroy. And this was just the last twelve hours of entertainment. Most of the system was in wild disarray, the entire social and economic structure dissolving into seething whirlwinds of destruction so violent and illogical that even the Klingon ambassador had closed his embassy and left.

He found himself heartily missing Romulans.

At least their chaos was . . . predictable.

And fairly routable.

This . . . this was like trying to stop a raging wildfire with a single expelled breath.

He was rather surprised that he had still been allowed to stay.

Particularly as the Starfleet recall ship that had come for him was his wife's.

He narrowed his eyes.

And studied Saavik suspiciously.

Her long legs stretched out casually and crossed at the ankles, she sat on the broken tiled floor of his office, her crimson officer's jacket folded neatly in spite of the scorch marks and blood splatters on its fabric on the seat of the chair she had leaned her back against. Her long chestnut hair was unbound and there was a Fleet issue disruptor rifle lying across her lap. But though one hand gripped it securely, her attention was on the plasti sheaf she was reading.

And she looked decidedly . . . amused.

He crossed his arms feeling a stir of displeasure and craned his neck to read the sheaf's title. Perhaps it was summation of the control counters the government had been employing to regain. . . .

His eyebrows shot up in shock.

 _The Federation Enquirer?!_

"You are in the middle of a civil breakdown of the entire a'Relh society and you are reading a _tabloid_?"

Saavik shrugged one shoulder, not diverting her attention one micron.

"Saavik!"

She sighed and pried her gaze off the plasti sheaf to give him a disapproving glower. "Why are you not focusing on your assignment?"

Spock gave her a dark look. "I have been focused on my assignment for the past seventeen point four five seven months." He sniffed dignified. "Even the Vulcan system requires a 'break'." He eyed her sheaf distastefully. "Why is one of your obvious intelligence wasting cognitive processes on such . . . foolishness?"

Saavik merely arched an eyebrow. "You ceased being my teacher decades ago. Redirect your supervision to the a'Relh; obviously, _they_ are in the greater need for it."

Spock bristled. "Vulcans do not read tabloids."

Saavik's mouth twisted dryly. "Provoking me will not produce the desired obedience. My biology has been more than _sufficiently_ explained to me. Repeatedly."

Spock would have blushed in shame had he not gripped his bio control techniques hard. He lowered his eyes. "I ask forgiveness, aduna, it was not my intent to offend thee." Then he lifted them again and found her studying him under dark lashes with a very . . . Romulan humor.

He frowned. "Your scrutiny is disturbing me."

The glint in her eyes only brightened. "Indeed? Then I shall return to my reading and cease to trouble you." She lifted the plasti sheaf again.

His eyes became slits. "That was a clever manipulation."

"Yes," she said calmly, not interrupting her reading, "I am surprised your logic did not detect its progression. Perhaps you should rest until the time of your meeting. I am more than capable of guarding you."

Spock eyed her carefully. "Of that, I have no doubt." He tilted his head, studying the sheaf in her hand, a calculation beginning to form. "Stress reduction attempt?"

Saavik's lips twitched. "That would involve _this_." She tapped the disruptor on her lap.

"Entertainment value?"

"A side effect."

"Then you are . . . seeking some information."

Saavik's eyebrow lifted. "At last, logic has overridden exhaustion."

"A simple explanation at the beginning of the conversation would have been logical."

Her eyes glinted at his over the top of her sheaf. "But not as . . . rewarding. You were _most_ disturbed."

He sighed. "You are absolutely forbidden to spend any more shore leaves with Leonard McCoy."

She lowered the sheaf to give him a glower. "I will not leave our impressionable son unescorted in his presence."

"Leonard would never harm Setik."

"He taught him how to forcibly project saliva!"

"It is called 'spitting', Saavik, and-" His mind caught up to his lectorial mode. "He did _what_?"

"And Setik showed his grandfather his newly perfected skill." Saavik winced. "In the presence of T'Lar."

Spock paled. "You . . . jest."

Saavik's eyebrow held frost. "I wish."

Spock swallowed. "What did they . . . say?"

"Father is discussing fostering Setik in a more . . . traditional House. T'Lar's."

Spock started up from his chair, white.

Saavik smiled serenely. "Aduna, you are _far_ too exhausted." She lifted her sheaf again. "Given your son's _extremely_ _proper_ personality, your logic should have immediately warned you of the high probability that the information you were receiving was false."

"You. . . . A lie."

"A test."

Spock actually felt a surge of anger and then control returned and he sat back down heavily. After a moment of contemplation he tilted his head. "You are saying that I have . . . mishandled the a'Relh situation."

Saavik sighed and lowered the sheaf. "Adun, I am saying that you have let your . . . concern for these people and your . . . unease over their extreme emotional tendencies to interfere with your success."

"Saavik, these people-"

"Are as I was."

He stopped. "Romulans-"

Saavik's eyebrow arched.

He frowned slowly. "You are suggesting I act as if they are feral children?"

Saavik shrugged and lifted the sheaf again. "That or I kill a substantial portion of the population and restore order by sheer reduction of discordant beings."

His eyes widened. "You would not."

Saavik gave him a long look.

"You would not."

Saavik lifted her sheaf again. "Your meeting is in four point one three hours. For the record, I do not _miss_."

"I am contemplating this alternative action as we speak." His eyes studied the sheaf. "What information could possibly be of value or accuracy in a tabloid?"

"Multi-tasking of this situation is not wise—especially given your current exhaustion."

"You are avoiding my question."

"I am informing you of a valid observation."

"Saavik."

"Spock."

His eyes narrowed. "Tell me now."

"Your emotional controls-"

"Are perilously worn. Tell me now."

"You do not need any additional . . . concerns."

Spock felt a sudden unease. "As Vulcan's ambassador or as a husband and father?"

Saavik sighed. She tapped her fingers along the sleek lines of her disruptor rifle and he stiffened.

"Do not sanitize the data. I am neither of frail health nor of turbulent mind."

Her mouth curved wryly at the corner. "Very well." She eyed the sheaf thoughtfully. "You are aware of the humans' tendency towards . . . speculation, correct?"

He nearly winced. "I am."

She fingered one of the plasti sheets. "And you are aware of the humans' extreme . . . curiosity towards certain . . . areas of Vulcan privacy?"

This time he did wince. "The article is featuring Pon Farr."

Saavik nodded slowly. "Yes . . . and other . . . aspects of Vulcan . . . sexuality."

His eyes widened.

She cleared her throat. "And as there are relatively few Vulcans in such . . . notoriety. . . ."

Spock felt his insides just cringe. He closed his eyes. "Have Sarek and Perrin seen this tabloid?" He opened his eyes, feeling even more tired now than he was earlier.

Saavik nodded once. "It was Perrin who brought it to my attention, so I hazard the assumption that our father has already seen the contents."

His eyebrow lifted in open disapproval.

Saavik gave him a stern look. "No, Perrin does _not_ read habitually read tabloids. However, she maintained the occupation of journalist for over a decade and given her position as an ambassador's wife, she has kept her 'contacts' in the field." An amused look returned to Saavik's eyes. "She was rather. . .displeased. . .at so crude an invasion of her House's privacy."

Spock blinked. "She. . .was?"

Saavik gave him an outright dark look.

Spock sighed. "I did not intend that as a criticism of Perrin."

"You did not think she would defend us."

Spock frowned ever so slightly. "As the only interactions Perrin and I maintain are argumentative in the extreme. . . ."

Saavik's lips thinned. "Disagreement over priorities is not the same as disloyality to House."

Spock was silent a long moment.

Saavik's face softened. "She is not Amanda. But it would be erroneous in the extreme to discount the value she _is_. Especially to our father."

Spock stiffened, face closing down. "If he truly loved my mother he would not have sought another bond."

Saavik's eyes darkened with grief and she looked away from him. "Do you not . . . love your father?"

Spock was surprised. He frowned. "You well know that though my father and I have often . . . collided . . . I . . . do."

"Then why would you condemn him to decades of . . . aloneness?" The sudden bitterness in her voice made her tones harsh.

Spock stilled. For the first time, something truly terrible occurred to him. He got up and went to kneel beside his wife. He reached out and gently touched her hair. "Why . . . why do you speak of this?"

Saavik turned back to him and her face was carefully composed. She took his hand in hers and suddenly her eyes seemed to burn into his. "You will give me your word now—should . . . I fall . . . you will follow our father's path."

Spock recoiled in very real revulsion. "No, I will not-"

Saavik let go of her disruptor rifle to cup his chin and hold him firm. "You cannot fulfill your destiny alone. T'Lar has foretold this."

"I do not wish another!"

Saavik's eyes reflected pleasure at the force of his feelings but then she made them immovable again. "Then you will fail." Her voice became very weary. "And our children . . . will have neither mother nor father."

Spock knew devastation. He drew her near and simply held her, inhaling the acrid tang of disruptor smoke still mingled with the soothing clean smell of Earth's pine forest in her hair. Suddenly he did not care at all for the a'Relh's fate. Nor for anything else that owned him.

And he felt a growing grief in her that brought a chill to his heart.

"My wife, why do you speak of this? What has so . . . troubled you?"

Saavik laid her cheek against his chest but he could feel a wall she now kept firmly between their minds and it filled him with an illogical fear.

"Give me your word, Spock," she said softly. "I cannot . . . bear . . . the thought of your aloneness."

He caught her face and held it so he could look into her eyes. He did not like what he saw. "You . . . fear . . . you will not live." It was with only extraordinary effort that he kept control. Even still, his hands trembled. "What have you not told me?"

Her smile was gently sorrowful. "I am as much bound by my duty as you are by yours."

He felt a rage begin to stir at Starfleet. "What is this risk that they would dare-"

Saavik reached up and stroked the side of his face and a wry dark amusement returned to her eyes. "You lack the Security clearances, ambassador." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his. "And your exhaustion has made you emotional. Be peaceful, my husband." Her eyes glinted. "Even this Little Cat retains a few lives left to spare."

Spock felt an irrational urge to snatch her up into his arms and hide her someplace, _anyplace_ , safe. And yet, he could not. She would not go.

It made him want to weep.

Saavik's lips curved at him. "It is a bitter feeling, yes?" She touched his face gently. "I know this same feeling every moment you are across the Zone." She sighed and the gaze she turned up at him knew moisture. "It would . . . give me . . . some comfort if you would promise. I could . . . go without . . . ." She had to stop to keep control. "I will . . . beg for this," she said softly.

He had to close his eyes to keep his own control. His proud Saavik! "No." he said, his voice hoarse, "I will not have you . . . . I will give it." He opened his eyes and stared fiercely down at her. "But not because I wish it, for I desire no other, but because you would have it of me."

The utter relief on her face almost broke him. She touched him hesitantly. "My . . . gratitude, adun."

He sighed. "I would prefer your extreme-and Hellguard ruthless if necessary-effort to remain alive instead."

Saavik's smile was quite Romulan. "Do not fear, adun, I have no intention of causing your word to become action." She sobered and leaned against him. "But . . . as you once said . . . there are always . . . possibilities."

Spock laid his cheek against her hair, feeling the softness of it slowly ease him back into proper control.

She was right, he was exhausted.

"I require the same promise of you, aduna," he said quietly.

He could feel her scowl against his chest and for some reason, it pleased him.

He caressed her arm. "You know the risks of Reunification. And you are far younger than I." He hesitated a moment and then continued, an almost Romulan smile shadowing his lips. "I have already . . . put some contingencies in place, however, I will hear your word that you will accept their . . . possibilities."

Saavik growled dangerously. "Who have you chosen for me?"

He bent and brushed her ear with his mouth. "Who would you have _me_ choose?"

She shifted a bit against him. "It was not difficult to select her."

"Hmm."

She shifted again. "And it would improve Reunification's projected success possibilities significantly."

His eyebrow lifted. "Why does that sound unpleasant?"

"You would not find it so. . .unpleasant. She has stirred you before." Saavik cleared her throat. "It was not difficult to get her to agree to my request." She shrugged. "Assuming she survives longer than her first mate did, of course. . . ."

Spock winced instantly and pushed Saavik to arm's length. "You did _not_."

Saavik crossed her arms. "It is Romulan nature to plan ahead."

He gave a martyred sigh.

Saavik's eyes narrowed. "She offered before, I fail to see your disapproval."

Spock started. "How did. . . ." He cleared his throat. "Did she tell you. . . ."

Saavik's look was sly. "She did not have to. I saw the look in her eyes when I left Romulus-and your mind when you returned to Vulcan."

Spock's chin lifted. "I behaved most honorably-"

Saavik leaned forward and kissed him. "If I had doubt, I would not have bespoken her."

They parted.

Spock frowned. "Aduna, what duty is Starfleet sending you upon that has you so . . . uncertain of your return?"

Saavik shook her head. "I have told you, it is classified." She shifted to settle back against him. "I am to deliver you to your next assignment and I will return to Vulcan for a short duration before . . . I am sent. I will assist Perrin in getting . . . used to the children." Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Then, you will not feel pulled from your duty to Reunification. She and father will tend them in our absence."

Spock drew Saavik instinctively closer to him. "I would prefer our children be raised by us."

Saavik nodded absently. "Yet, we must have . . . a contingency."

He had to agree. He traced her face with his fingertips.


End file.
